


Two Birds with One Stone

by Gumnut



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brothers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tornado
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29106915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Virgil and Gordon have an argument over who gets first aid first...and then it really gets serious.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Godsliltippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godsliltippy/gifts).



> Inspired by @godsliltippy and [her wonderful art.](https://gumnut-logic.tumblr.com/post/640958292489895936/tippystreasurebox-who-gets-first-aid-first)
> 
> Many thanks to @tsarinatorment, @janetm47 and @scribbles97 for all their reading and amazing support :D
> 
> Warnings: There is blood in this due to injury. 
> 
> This is a complete fic, I'm just proofing before archiving.

“Hold still, Gordon!”

“Virgil, you’re bleeding.” The aquanaut wriggled in Virgil’s grip.

“If you don’t hold still, you’ll be the one spurting blood everywhere! Hold still!”

Virgil had one meaty fist wrapped around his little brother’s forearm ever so tight. The blue neoprene was stained dark already, the slice in his brother’s arm deep enough to nick an artery and stop Virgil’s heart. He had a list of possible short and long term complications spinning through his head. Gordon had to sit still. Virgil had to stop the bleeding.

His glove was slippery.

“Virgil, you are obviously injured. Please sit down.” Passionate brown eyes tried to fix him where he stood, but Virgil shook them off. He was needed.

“Later. Now hold still.” One handed, Virgil fiddled with his baldric, pulling out an emergency medkit. Thunderbird Two sat not far away, waiting, but this was an arterial injury and he needed to secure it first.

He had Gordon cornered on a pile of rubble. Fortunately, the sudden and unexpected tornado had left as fast as it had arrived, though Virgil did spare a glance every now and again at the still ominous and dark sky.

Having grown up a county or two over, you’d think he would be used to airborne farm machinery, but no.

“Please, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice was so pleading it left Virgil wondering exactly what the hell he looked like. All he remembered was John yelling in his ear, a roar and then something hit him.

They were in Kansas, fielding the aftermath of a particularly nasty rash of tornadoes. Two sat clamped to the ground, wings folded and secured, but the fact she was still there was a good sign she hadn’t been hit.

Thank god.

He blinked.

His face felt rusty.

And found Gordon staring up at him worriedly. “Virg?”

He swallowed and didn’t answer, forcing himself to focus on the important task at hand.

Releasing his hand just a little in order to replace it with a pressure bandages resulted in a spray of red all over his uniform. He was vaguely aware of Gordon turning white, but had to move fast and secured the bandage tightly.

He wrapped his hand around the bandage and didn’t let go.

“We need to get you into Two.”

Scott was already on his way. He hadn’t been attending the same site, otherwise occupied by an incident on the other side of the planet.

John had yelled loud enough and Virgil had no doubt that the atmosphere between here and there was being shredded by a rocket plane.

Honestly, Virgil welcomed the assistance. Hell, John may even be on his way down. Someone needed to help them.

As if to warn him, the whole world wobbled.

A hand on his arm. “Virgil, I’ll get Scott on the line if I have to. Sit down!”

Putting some steel into his spine, he shook his brother off. “Need to get you to Two.”

“I’m fine! The bandage is secure. For Christ sake, Virgil!”

Virgil reached down and looped an arm under Gordon’s shoulder and with a push from his thighs, heaved his brother to his feet.

Virgil kept his fist tight on his brother’s injury.

“Virgil!”

But his focus was on his ‘bird and his need to see his brother safe. Gordon wriggled in his hold again, but Virgil ignored him and took one determined step after another.

The ground was mud.

There were still rock-sized hailstones lying around and his boot kicked one. Weather phenomena could be truly fascinating. Gordon was saying something, but Virgil’s grip on his brother’s arm was more important.

Gordon was wriggling again and it made Virgil unsteady.

The sky was growing dark.

Virgil tried to blink, but his right eye now wasn’t working properly. Somewhere at the back of his mind he acknowledged that this might be a problem.

Mud sloshed at his feet.

Gordon was suddenly yelling, his hands grabbing at Virgil’s uniform. But the world tipped sideways and to Virgil’s upmost annoyance it blinked out.

Gordon! He had to save Gordon!

Terror for his little brother chased him into darkness.

-o-o-o-


	2. Chapter 2

Gordon hated tornadoes. Since he was little, they had haunted his dreams. Stories from kids at school, news on the broadcasts and several mad scampers down into the storm shelter with his mother and a brother or two, absolutely terrified for the brothers who weren’t with them, pretty much cemented in a decent wariness.

And the sound. Oh god, the sound. So loud and screeching.

There had been the one time it had only been him and his two eldest brothers. Mom had been with Johnny somewhere else. Gordon had been too young to remember where, but what he did remember was Virgil.

Scott had held Gordon while the wind blasted overhead and his brother’s arms around him helped ever so much. But Virgil had been so jumpy and the emotion in his eyes had frightened Gordon enough that he never forgot it.

He had asked Virgil about it sometime after but his big brother had no idea what he was talking about. There were hugs and reassurance a-plenty, but Gordon was not convinced.

He was determined that Virgil liked tornadoes even less than Gordon.

So, it was with a familiar sense of apprehension that Gordon faced landing in a volatile tornado zone.

Two was equipped. Equipped to withstand almost anything. She was a tank. But there were plenty of things in a tornado zone that Brains might not have been able to predict.

If Gordon found himself eyeing the dark sky as Virgil secured his ‘bird, literally clamping her to the ground with her grapples and drilling pitons deployed from her struts, he felt justified in his uneasiness. Virgil even muttered something about the type of rock he had landed on, probably to try and reassure his co-pilot.

It didn’t work.

But Gordon was used to being afraid. It was healthy and just needed the respect it was due so he could work around it.

Today it was a factory and an unconfirmed number of people trapped beneath its collapsed structure.

They were both moving, down the hatch, and running over to do an initial site assessment before deploying a pod or two. Virgil had just reached the edge of the debris zone, Gordon a second behind him when John yelled in his ear and the world suddenly darkened.

That familiar and dreaded screeching wind leapt up and the earth roared as a twister hit dirt far too close to them and obviously unpredicted by anyone. It blanked out everything with torn up landscape.

John was still yelling in his ear.

It began to hail.

Huge chunks of ice that clamoured against his helmet and bruised through uniform.

The noise.

God, the noise.

Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed for Virgil’s uniform only to glimpse a darker shadow in the chaos.

A split second later he was fighting the wind both to keep his feet and to move himself and his brother out of the way.

It was a combine harvester.

An airborne combine harvester. He had only a split second to recognise the shape before it was on them.

Gordon threw up an arm to protect himself as the machinery threatened to land on their heads.

It didn’t.

It missed, bouncing just enough to fly over in a mess of screaming metal.

His arm snagged on something sharp, tearing his uniform, but he was so happy to not be dead that when the twister abruptly disappeared just as fast as it hit, he found himself collapsing to the ground as much as the falling debris around him.

The hail switched to rain.

Dirt turned to iceberged mud.

He still had his fist knotted in Virgil’s baldric.

His brother was face down, helmet sinking into the sludge.

“Virgil!”

The rain petered off abruptly and the world around him fell silent bar the ominous rumble of the clouds and the soft splats of small pieces of debris returning to earth.

“Virgil!”

His brother did not respond.

But as Gordon reached over to assess him something twitched in his arm, a spurt of red forced him to clamp a hand down on a suddenly very serious injury.

Shit!

“Virgil!”

He nudged his brother with an elbow and prayed he wasn’t seriously injured.

As if in answer, Virgil groaned and rolled over.

Gordon’s eyes widened.

There was a huge chunk of metal sticking out of his brother’s helmet.

Words failed him, absolute terror shaking him to his bones.

“VIRGIL!”

His brother groaned again, a hand wavering towards his broken visor.

“No, Virgil, stay still! Thunderbird Five, emergency, we need assistance, Virgil is down!”

“FAB. Help is already on the way. Scott is en route.” His brother’s voice was calm, familiar and professional, but the tension was there. “I’ve alerted local services, but they are overwhelmed.” And there was the worry that echoed Gordon’s. “I will do my best.”

The aquanaut didn’t bother to acknowledge that. He knew John would do everything.

Gordon edged closer to Virgil only to have to scuttle out of the way as his brother suddenly sat up, threw off his helmet and emptied his stomach onto the mud.

It was unpleasant but unfortunately not unfamiliar. Virgil groaned, an arm clutching at his gut and his other hand reaching for his head.

“Virgil!”

His brother looked over at him and Gordon was forced to swallow bile.

The right side of Virgil’s head was matted in blood. His cheekbone was already beginning to swell and his eye with it. Brown eyes looked at him blearily a moment before blinking and focussing…

…on Gordon’s arm.

“Gordon!”

It was like a switch had been hit and Virgil was moving reaching for Gordon’s injury, medical concern his only focus. Eyes ascertained the extent of the damage and against Gordon’s protests, Virgil soon had his fist around it stemming the bloodflow and wrapping it in a pressure bandage. Gordon knew time was limited and restricting his circulation was a bad thing, not to mention the lack of oxygen to particular parts of his body that artery actually fed, but the sight of blood dribbling down the side of his brother’s head completely ignored as he smotherhenned over Gordon, was simply distressing.

And now he wanted to try and move them both to Two. What?!

“I’m fine! The bandage is secure. For Christ’s sake, Virgil!”

But he was ignored and next Gordon, who despite a little dizziness due to blood loss, felt he was quite capable of walking on his own, found his brother’s considerable shoulders under one arm and they were moving through the mud to the massive green ‘bird fifty-odd metres away.

“Virgil!” God, please, don’t do this to yourself.

Okay, vertical wasn’t the best position and his head spun. Gordon had a sudden wish for his biggest brother to suddenly appear to save them all. As if hearing that thought, the world decided to make his life even worse and everything went sideways as Virgil went down like a ton of bricks.

Gordon went with him.

Mud kicked up and splashed all over them. Gordon fought to keep Virgil’s head from dropping into the stuff. “Goddamnit, Virg!” He struggled to hold his brother and Gordon did not miss the red that appeared on his now muddy bandage. “Shit. Why don’t you listen?!”

“Gordon, report!”

Scott’s voice raked the air in his helmet as Gordon bit into his lip, desperately attempting to both run a vitals check on Virgil and to stop the world spinning.

“Working on it, Thunderbird One.” His tone was sharp, but he didn’t have the energy for niceties. “ETA?”

“Eleven minutes. Status?” There was more big brother than commander in that request and it hit exactly where Scott had planned it to. Gordon’s shoulders relaxed just a micron and his breath came a little easier.

It was going to be a long eleven minutes.

The world spun again and he had to note that the pressure bandage was not doing everything it needed to do. There was more red than white and he still had eleven or more minutes to field.

Now his brother had been forced to stop moving, at least Gordon could examine his head injury. Unfortunately, up close, it was worse.

There was still metal in the wound. It reflected dully in the ominous lighting and if he hadn’t seen Virgil awake and functioning he would be even more terrified than he already was.

But that didn’t negate his brother throwing a bleed or some other nasty post initial injury.

Gordon shifted so he could support Virgil. He gently lowered his brother’s head into his lap. This freed up Gordon’s hands to grab at the engineer’s kit and drag out the mediscanner he kept in his baldric.

A flash of yellow.

The readout that was thrown to his HUD chilled him to the bone. “John, tell Scott to hurry.”

-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

Thunderbird One was the fastest atmospheric craft on Earth, or the Solar System for that matter.

But sometimes she just wasn’t fast enough.

As John forwarded the mediscanner readouts and his brothers’ suit sensors, Thunderbird One physically screamed as her pilot pushed that increment more out of her engines and sliced atmosphere enough for the mach booms to merge into one devastating roar.

One made her own thunder.

It echoed Scott’s heart.

Virgil had a piece of metal embedded in his skull. It had already damaged a vein, but now it was pressing on an artery.

And Gordon…Gordon was bleeding badly.

A sound welled in Scott’s throat and here, alone, with only his angry ‘bird for company, he let it out.

It was more whimper than groan.

And to top it all off, all those people trapped in that factory still needed saving.

He could hear Virgil snarling from here at the thought of them leaving those people behind just because of personal injury.

“Thunderbird Five, task the factory collapse to the GDF. Get Aunt Val on the line if you have to.”

“FAB, Thunderbird One.”

There would be a delay and it pained him, but with both Virgil and Gordon down, Scott needed to see to his brothers.

One screamed even more as his hand twitched and nudged a little more power into her rockets.

He made it in ten point five minutes.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was wilting by the time Thunderbird One tore into the airspace above them. He was desperately trying to keep his blood inside him but the artery was determined and his ability to keep pressure on the injury was failing.

Which only made it worse.

Blood was running down his arm, the bandage soaked through, mixing with the mud his knees were sinking into.

He had briefly thought to make a run for it to Two, but that would have meant leaving Virgil and there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it anyway. Then both of them would be in serious trouble.

At least here, he could support his brother and keep calm.

Scott was coming.

Scott would fix it.

But god he was ever so cold and tired.

He knew the symptoms, of course, and he fought them. Hypovolemic shock was a nasty thing.

Everything blurred a moment as the world began to roar.

For a split-second Gordon hunkered down thinking the tornado had returned, but the clouds, though still dark, were moving on to terrorise someone else.

Instead, Thunderbird One shot into the sky, atmosphere screeching as she killed speed and spun into land. Gordon blearily noted that it wasn’t his big brother’s best landing. He basically dumped his ‘bird on the ground, leapt out and was running.

Oh, thank god.

The relief that washed over Gordon nearly took him out. He wanted nothing more than to collapse face first into the mud.

But Virgil…

Virgil.

Scott had two hoverstretchers trailing along behind him. Gordon blinked slowly.

And then his big brother was in front of him saying something, hands were on his sore arm and they hurt. Blue eyes were trying to catch his.

Gordon flinched away.

“Scott…Virgil…”

Scott spoke, but Gordon’s brain wouldn’t deliver the message to him.

Then something clamped down onto his forearm and stabbed him. Gordon cried out and clarity hit his brain hard.

His brother was rebandaging his arm.

Virgil was on a hoverstretcher. How the hell did Scott get him there?

“Gordon, speak to me!”

“Ow.”

“C’mon, little bro, up you get.” Scott was lifting him to his feet, not unlike how Virgil tried earlier.

“Virgil!” Gordon tried to turn towards his injured brother, but Scott held him tight.

“I’ve got Virgil. We need to get both of you to a hospital.”

Gordon grimaced.

“Hey, it’s Topeka. Maybe Doc Chalmers will be on duty.” Scott shuffled him over to the stretcher and gently lowered him down. The pilot held Gordon’s injured arm vertical as he led the two stretchers to the waiting green hulk of their brother’s Thunderbird.

Gordon stared up at her underside as Scott moved the stretchers onto the lowered hatch. “You wish, big bro. Maybe this time she will say yes.”

Scott grunted.

There followed a hovering older brother, needles, oxygen that cleared his head somewhat and ultimately the familiar roar of Two’s engines. His stomach lifted off the floor as she rose into the sky.

For a split second there was relief and then…

“Gordon?”

Virgil lay on his stretcher docked on the other side of the cockpit. Gordon blinked, forcing himself to focus. Scott had strapped Virgil down, his head held still to one side, fortunately facing Gordon and the rest of the cockpit. A loose bandage was soaking up the blood around his ear.

“Virgil, lay still!”

“Gordon?!” There was fear in his brother’s voice.

“I’m here, Virg. Scott’s got us.”

“Gords, please…” It was a wail of distress.

But then Scott was there, his body blocking Gordon’s view, his words as gentle as his hands.

His voice was ever so soothing. Virgil whimpered before falling quiet again.

Gordon closed his eyes, ever so, so tired.

Scott was here. He would fix it.

The roar of Two’s engines and his big brother’s voice followed him into a peaceful oblivion.

-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

Scott had blood on his hands.

It wasn’t a new thing. It happened far too often to really be anything out of the ordinary. But it was different when it was his brothers’.

Oh, so different.

Technically, his hands were clean. After all, between his uniform gloves and the first aid gloves, his skin was sanitary.

But it wasn’t.

He could feel it.

Virgil woke the moment his ‘bird’s engines flared up. It was almost predictable. It was actually a good thing. But he hadn’t been coherent, stuck in the moment he last remembered. Gordon was his entire concern and it took every reassuring word and action Scott could think of to calm his brother down.

And behind him, Gordon had slipped into unconsciousness.

Fortunately, the trip was ever so short and within minutes they were on the ground again.

Virgil was still fretting. Scott had to strap his head down to prevent him from moving it, but his brother wasn’t aware enough to realise why.

His distress broke Scott’s heart.

Gordon’s silence just scared him.

But now they were both in expert medical hands. The fact Scott knew the doctor on duty was both a reassuring and ridiculous thing.

But now, alone in the waiting room, he only had himself for company and the images and the beating of his overtaxed heart thudding in his ears.

There were a multitude of things he should be doing - checking in with the GDF, following up on the danger zone, checking in with John, Grandma...Alan.

But for one moment, just one, he let himself sit down on one of those blasted plastic waiting room chairs he hated, and dropped his head into his hands.

It was far from the exemplary conduct of the Commander of International Rescue. His uniform grated against his skin, but he needed to clear his head, calm the panic and reset to face it all again.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him enough to gasp.

Familiar and kind aquamarine eyes caught his as John crouched down beside him. “Hey.”

Scott let out a breath. “Hey.” He straightened and sat back in the chair giving himself space. “They’re going to be okay.”

Voice soft. “I know.” John unfolded again and sat in the chair next to him. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not injured.”

“No. But it hurts anyway.”

Scott’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer that. There was no purpose in answering. It was acknowledged, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Instead, he pushed off from the chair and threw himself to his feet.

He had things to do.

That hand caught his arm. “Scott, wait.”

He turned to watch John stand up and face him. Quiet and calm. “Stay. Eos is managing the rescue. Aunt Val is managing the GDF component. Grandma is on her way.”

Scott looked down at the floor a moment. He needed to be doing something. Virgil’s cries were still bouncing back and forth in his head and Gordon’s silence was echoing. Blood and metal and mud.

But most of all it was the senselessness. He was willing to give his life to save others. He knew his brothers felt the same.

But this?

No one was saved. It was a random fluke of nature. A mindless tornado that could have taken everything as easily as it took the lives of the people they were trying to help.

And no one had been rescued.

His brothers hadn’t even had a chance to start.

It reminded him of an equally mindless avalanche, oh, so long ago.

The blood was sticky on his hands.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” John’s voice was soft as always, calm as always. This was why he was the Thunderbird he was. Why Thunderbird Five worked as well as she did. His brother was his ‘bird.

John’s hand shifted from Scott’s arm to wrap around his shoulders. Hell, the man was still getting taller. Scott wasn’t used to looking a brother directly in the eye and god forbid he have to look up.

He was the eldest, after all. It was fit he be the tallest.

“C’mon, I’ll keep you company.”

And before Scott could protest, John herded him out to Thunderbird Two and her ample bathroom facilities. A shower and his mud and blood-spattered uniform was replaced with a red flannel shirt and a pair of jeans both too big and too short at the same time.

He had Virgil poking him for not restocking his spare clothes since London three days ago.

He idly wondered if the rest of his brothers sported a Virgil voice in the back of their heads.

Scott knew that his, at least, never neglected a smart-assed word at any appropriate moment.

Today he almost welcomed them.

But the shower and the fresh clothes helped clear his head and slow his thudding heart. It didn’t clean the blood off his hands and he still had the urge to scratch them raw. He curled his hands into fists.

Returning to the cockpit he was confronted by the missing hover stretchers, but worse was the hologram playing in front of John.

Obviously, Two’s external camera, he watched as nothing other than a combine harvester attempted to kill his brothers. John played with the controls, flipping the scene back and forth obviously attempting to ascertain exactly how his brothers were injured.

But Scott’s eyes just latched onto that massive airborne machine. A killing machine that tried to take his brothers.

Holographic pixels measured out how close.

Ever so close.

“Shut it off.” His voice was sharp and cold.

John jumped as if caught with his hands in the till and the hologram vanished. “Sorry.”

Scott bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m going back to the hospital.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He just lowered himself through the hatch and strode ever so fast back into the building that held his injured brothers.

-o-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up in hospital always sucked. The moment he smelled that far too familiar scent of sanitized and medical, he knew he had let his family down, likely worried more grey into their hair and the next few whatever time length would be required to recover would suck even more.

He hated being grounded, he hated causing pain and he hated hurting his family.

But another conscious breath supplied him with the vaguest of recaps on how he had managed to land himself here, even before he opened his eyes.

Tornado.

Gordon.

The latter was enough to slam him into full consciousness and force an attempt to fling his eyes open.

Unfortunately, whatever he had done to himself involved his head and eyes and said body parts did not appreciate being called into service in the slightest.

And there was the pain.

He groaned and brought a tubing-tethered had to his head.

His fingers encountered bandaging and swelling and ow, ow, ow.

A few calming breaths and he brought himself under control. His head throbbed, but he could manage it. Gentle finger investigations sketched out that the whole side of his head was wrapped up and it sparked worry about what exactly was wrong with him.

The last thing he remembered was Gordon and blood.

He cranked an eye open. Apparently, only one was working, the other one felt swollen shut and there were spikey things that could possibly be stitches in his eyebrow. Probably meant wonky eyebrows again, but considering the bandaging, he probably had much more than eyebrows to worry about.

But Gordon.

Where was Gordon?

He blinked and winced as it triggered his injured eye as well, but it cleared what little vision he had.

And he was confronted with red flannel.

What?

It was his shirt on arms wrapped around a tousled mop of dark hair.

It took another painful blink for the owner’s identity to register.

“Scott?” But his voice was whisper quiet and the head did not respond.

Virgil’s neck felt stiff, but he had to move, had to find Gordon.

Looking to the left, beyond his big brother he could see the end of another bed, but the curtain was in the way.

Virgil’s bed was tilted up, Scott’s head resting by his left hand. His brother appeared to be asleep, shoulders rising up and down slowly and regularly.

Virgil quietly lifted his hand up and away from his big brother and tried to reach for the curtain to move it out of the way.

He couldn’t quite touch it.

A shift on the bed, doing his best not to disturb Scott and he reached again.

“Virgil! What the hell are you doing?” A hand shoved the curtain aside.

Scott flinched and sat up, blinking. His hair stuck up in all directions.

But the voice was so Gordon, Virgil was swept with a wave of relief enough for him to collapse back against the bed. “Gords? You ‘k?”

A rustle of sheets and bare feet on linoleum, and his blond and rather pale brother shuffled into view.

Tubing, not unlike that wrapped around Virgil’s right hand, chained his brother to the bed behind him.

Meanwhile, Scott’s brain had obviously booted enough to realise what was going on.

“Gordon! What the hell are you doing?”

Gordon ignored him and shuffled closer to Virgil’s bed, his IV stand trailing behind him. But it was obvious not all was well with his little brother. He wavered a little and it was only a quick move by Scott that prevented a visit to the floor.

“Gordon what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I needed to see Virgil.”

Scott’s head shot around and targeted Virgil as if he hadn’t realised he was awake. “Virg?”

Virgil frowned. “Scott, you okay?”

His big brother looked awful. His eyes were red-rimmed and his complexion was grey. For a moment there, Virgil wondered which brother was doing the most holding up.

“My god, sit down, both of you.” His throat caught on the last word and he was coughing.

The world went wobbly and full of pain.

A door. Exclamations. Hands grabbed him and everything just hurt.

God.

Someone was holding him and stroking his hair.

“C’mon, honey, relax. Breathe through it.”

A blink of purple and a familiar scent. God, he just melted into his grandmother’s arms.

But...

“Scott-“

“Don’t you worry about Scotty. He’s going to get some sleep now that you are with us again.”

“Grandma-“ His brother’s voice was almost as parched as Virgil’s.

“Help Gordon back to bed and get some sleep. Use the bed you were assigned for good reason.”

There was a shuffling of feet and muttered protests, but if there was one rule in the Tracy family, it was that Grandma’s word was law.

She was still stroking his hair. “Now, Virgil, you need to relax. She nudged him back onto his pillow and he was drawn to open his eyes.

Grandma was assessing him, medical and motherly. Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. “Let’s get you some pain medication.”

“No...”

“There is no need to suffer, Virgil.” And she was thumbing the call button.

A nurse appeared and there was conversation that Virgil had no energy for. His eyes sought out Gordon who was lying on his side ever so casual like, smiling at him. His arm was swathed in bandages.

“Good to see you, bro.” The smile became a grin.

“You good?”

“Plugged and the tank has had a refill. Vintage red straight from the source.” He pointed at Scott who was now sitting on a third bed in the room, obviously too stubborn to lie down.

One flannel sleeve was loose at the cuff.

“Scott, lie down.” No wonder his brother was so pale. Virgil could guess the course of events. Determination. The arm stuck out and ready to be stuck with a needle to save his little brother.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’m okay, Virgil.”

“Bullshit.” But it was quiet, because his own status wasn’t great and a tickle in his throat threatened him.

There must have been something in his expression, though, because Scott rolled his eyes and shucking off his shoes, he curled up on the bed...eyes watching both little brothers.

Why was he wearing Virgil’s clothes?

A needle appeared and something was injected into Virgil’s IV and from that point on everything was laced with fog.

John was there at one point, ever so tall and topped with copper. His musical voice asked Virgil a question involving the word tornado, but Virgil couldn’t find the energy to answer.

Alan was hugging him.

Penelope...there was a Penelope until a curtain took her away.

And then there was sleep.

Blissful, blissful sleep.

-o-o-o-


	6. Chapter 6

“A combine harvester?!”

“Totally cool sounding, don’t you think? I’m adding it to my list.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “You have a list? Of what?”

“Dramatic stuff. Near misses. Things worth bragging about at the bar.”

Virgil blinked, fortunately with both eyes this time, since the swelling was starting to go down.

He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by flowers. Grandma had gone all out this time with two boys in the hospital. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be in much longer.

Alan had dragged in one of Virgil’s sketchbooks and to Virgil’s surprise, he had found the energy to draw for a little while, though his head wouldn’t take much.

And his head was more than one problem.

He was missing half his hair.

And he looked stupid.

Worse, there was a jagged slice in his scalp where apparently a piece of that combine harvester had made it through his helmet and nearly sliced him in half.

The thought was downright alarming and he shunted it to the back of his mind with not a little terror.

He would examine it later.

Later.

But the problem at the moment, apart from the bandages that conveniently hid the issue temporarily, he only had half a head of hair and it looked stupid.

He had to appreciate that Gordon hadn’t laughed. In fact, none of his brothers had laughed at him. He couldn’t fault them for that.

Though there was a sparkle in Gordon’s eye that foretold at least one comment in the future, even if it was fond and caring.

Besides…

He kept waking up to find Gordon sitting on the end of his bed.

It was done with nonchalance and a smile, but Virgil was beginning to suspect an underlying cause. Not that he couldn’t acknowledge that he was happy to see his little brother and sharing a room with him in hospital was actually a boon to the medical process, but honestly, Virgil was beginning to worry.

“Don’t you have a list?”

Of course, a fish without a pond tended to be a bored fish.

“No, not really.”

“You don’t count successful rescues?”

“John and Scott keep records. I don’t like to dwell.”

His little brother shrugged. “I get that.”

There was silence for a while and Virgil let himself settle back into his pillow. Dosing was a rare pleasure.

“So, you don’t take advantage of being a hero even a tiny bit?”

Virgil blinked and frowned. “What?”

Gordon rolled over holding his injured arm and settled so he could see Virgil clearly. “You know, leverage a little heroism to start a conversation? Get one up on the stiffs at parties?”

He stared at his brother. “Are you having trouble at Penny’s charity functions?”

“Nooo.”

Okay, that meant yes. “You should talk to her, Gords.” He shrugged. “Need a wingman? I could come with.” Though he had to admit, he could see where Gordon was coming from. Some of those attendees were definitely stiffs who had never lifted a finger to help anyone but themselves in their entire lives.

“I can handle it.”

Okay, Virgil was definitely filching an invite to the next one. Could even drag in Scott. Big bro would torch the social scene. He wasn’t a fan, but he could play...to every other man’s detriment.

Or Virgil could ask John. Having a genius brother in orbit who had a daughter who had been told off several times already for influencing the stock market was an advantage.

“Virgil, stop the plotting. It is fine. I’ve got this. I just flex a little muscle, mention a few scars and spin a few tales. Joe WallStreet, or whatever they call it in London, doesn’t stand a chance.”

He eyed his brother. The urge to step in was strong.

Gordon smirked. “It is fine. Besides, you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon with that hairstyle.”

It was an obvious subject change, but it still earned Gordon a blistering glare. “Shut up.”

A snort and Gordon capitulated. “Don’t worry, bro, it’s cool. Shave the other side, get yourself some tatts and no one will ever question you on a rescue ever again.” The second snort was almost a giggle.

If only he could reach Gordon, clap him up the head.

There must have been something in his expression because Gordon burst out laughing, rolling on the bed, holding his arm to his side.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you, my dear artist bro, are entertaining.”

“Shove it.”

But at least Gordon was smiling.

Virgil would take that any day.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was up and about long before Virgil and took to disappearing from time to time into the depths of the hospital, often with one brother or the other and on several occasions, with Penelope.

Virgil didn’t get out much. He still had headaches and occasional dizzy spells, a lead on from a massive concussion and was the reason why they were still in hospital. Virgil had no doubt Gordon could probably have gone home, but was hanging about just because Virgil couldn’t.

If it pinned Gordon under medical observation and not in the ocean after such a serious injury, Virgil wasn’t going to argue. But it was frustrating that he himself wasn’t very mobile and he was sick of staring at the ceiling tiles.

They always bugged him as his artistic brain always constructed designs out of them and they always lacked symmetry.

Grandma, Alan, John, Scott and even Kayo were regular visitors. The Tracy clan had parked themselves in a nearby hotel, no doubt fueling both news agencies and the local economy.

Virgil just wanted to go home.

And Scott was out of sorts.

Scott was always out of sorts when a member of the family was injured, but this was different. And it was bugging Virgil.

Between his own injuries and the inability to pin his brother down due to interruptions and the lack of alone time, whatever it was that was bugging Scott was festering.

Topeka hospital was a familiar place to all of them. It had been their local major hospital for much of their formative years and considering the tornado seasons and IR responses, a regular delivery point for rescuees. There was a rooftop garden that had been sat in on several occasions in the past and it was with some conniving that Virgil spoke to Kayo to arrange for a corner of it to be secured so Virgil could go and sit up there for a bit of fresh air and privacy with his big brother.

He had no doubt that Scott knew he was being railroaded, but the lack of protest just emphasised how troubled his big brother was.

The sounds of the city below were no longer familiar and Virgil found himself longing for the ocean and the quiet of Tracy Island. It was evening, the sun having just set and the sky was a welcome sight after being confined to ceiling tiles for a few days, but the stars were dim, hidden by light pollution and a touch of smog.

It made him even more homesick.

“You okay, Virg?”

Scott had pushed him up here in a hoverchair. Virgil still needed it due to the dizzy spells and it ticked him off to no end. “Just homesick.”

Hi brother sighed. “Won’t be long. A couple of days and I’ll take you down to the beach and you can lay on the sand and stare at the stars to your heart’s content.”

Virgil shot him a glare. “I’m not John.”

“But you miss the stars anyway.”

Virgil grumbled. “I’m just used to seeing them.” He waved at hand at the sky. “It’s not the same.”

“Uh huh.” Scott was smiling in that condescending big brother knows better way he was so good at.

“Shut up.”

Scott didn’t stop grinning, he just dragged the ‘chair backwards until it nestled beside a park bench and then sat himself down beside Virgil.

They sat in silence for a while and Virgil let the soundscape seep into him. It was quieter up here than inside the hospital. There was a breeze with the scent of farmland under that pervasive smell of the city and cooling concrete. The breeze spoke of a possible storm in the distance. Virgil hoped it wasn’t a supercell. He had had enough of tornadoes for some time.

He missed the scent of the sea.

A sigh. He was being pathetic and falling into the doldrums over nothing. He was getting better. He would be home soon.

And screw it, he would plant his butt on a beach and drag Scott with him just to piss him off.

“You okay?”

Huh? Scott was peering at him, that worry ever persistent in the darkness of his eyes.

“It is you who I’m worried about.” So, it was defensive, big deal. Needed to start the conversation somehow.

“Me? I’m not the one who took on a combine harvester and nearly lost.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice, you know.”

“I know.” It was quiet and Virgil knew he had hit the nail on the head.

“Talk to me, Scott.”

“About what?”

Virgil flat-eyed glared at him. “About whatever has been bugging you the last few days.”

“I would have thought that was obvious with two brothers in the hospital.” Definitely defensive.

“No. This is more.”

“What? There are degrees? I don’t need analysis, Virg.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “You’re hurting. You’re not talking. What other recourse do I have?”

“Do you need one?”

“Of course, I do! You’re you! Whatever this is, it’s weighing on you and I hate to see you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain. It’s you who was injured.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that doesn’t affect you, you’re either lying through your teeth or I should be even more worried because you’ve obviously suffered brain damage of some kind and are no longer the Scott Tracy I know. Perhaps I should check you for a holographic disguise.”

Scott let out an annoyed scoff and shot to his feet, his actions agitated. “Virg, it’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goddamnit, Virgil-“

“Talk to me!” And yelling apparently hurt his head, because it throbbed in protest. He grit his teeth and glared up at his brother. Please, Scott, for both our sakes.

“It was close, okay? Too damned close.”

Virgil swallowed. He knew that. “Not the first time.”

“So, I should be used to it by now?” Despite the darkness, Scott was lit up with internal fire.

“No.”

But he had finally triggered the avalanche and Scott spilled it all over him.

“Do you have any idea how close this was? Millimetres and you wouldn’t be here anymore, Virg.”

“Again, not the first time.”

“But it was so senseless!” Scott’s hands shot out palm up, desperate for understanding. “You weren’t even in the middle of a rescue. The sky just opened up, stabbed down a twister and threw a chunk of farm machinery at you. It lasted mere seconds and it nearly took both of you. Why? If you had landed a few metres further away, if you had been a few seconds later in arrival, hell, the margin for error was astronomical, yet, it still happened. I nearly lost you and Gordy for no damned reason whatsoever!”

“You need a reason?”

“Goddamned, I do! If I’m going to lose a brother, at least it should be for a reason. A sacrifice made for the good of all.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.” Virgil’s heart was thudding in his chest.

“Well, it should. We do so much, sacrifice so much already, I don’t think it is too much to ask. We’ve already lost...” Scott shoved his face into his hands and parked himself back on the park bench. “Why the hell do you ask me these things?”

Ever so quiet. “Because they need to be asked.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I nearly lost you for nothing.”

“We were there for a reason. We both went in knowing the danger, you know that.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I’d be worried if it did.” Virgil sighed. “We survived, Scott. Thanks to you. You were fast enough.”

The grunt and groan that made it out between his brother’s fingers was pain itself.

The hoverchair made it awkward, but Virgil reached out and snagged his big brother with an arm and hauled him in the best he could. Scott, of course, protested, but Virgil’s arms were not injured and he was always smug that he had at least one thing racked up on the achievement scale that beat his almighty big brother and that was strength.

So, Scott was dragged into a hug whether he wanted it or not.

“Still here.”

Scott grumbled something unintelligible.

“Gords is adding it to his story list to tell at Penny’s parties.”

“He’s what?”

Distraction achieved.

“Wanna drop by Penny’s next charity dinner and play wingman to Gords? You get to take a few stiffs down a peg or million. Apparently, a few asses need a big brother kicking. We can break out Johnny and Eos for extra fun, if you like.”

“Who’s been messing with Gordon?” There it was. Exactly the trigger point needed.

“The Joe Wallstreets seem to think they are better than a fish Tracy.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Want to help me educate them? Though admittedly Gords was doing quite well on his own, higher education is always a good thing.”

Scott was staring at him in the darkness. It was obvious his brother knew exactly what Virgil was doing.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. It will be good PR for whatever charity Penny is supporting. With a bit of luck we can play it to her advantage as well.”

Scott was still staring at him.

“What?”

Ever so quiet. “What would I do without you?”

Virgil swallowed, desperately ignoring all the implications and the reverse of that question. “Here’s hoping we never find out.”

Scott sighed and let his head drop onto Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil just tugged him a little tighter and returned to trying to see the stars.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
